“Worse than that,” Sterling was working himself into a froth. “The girl will not see the sun for the rest of her days.”
Dorian had existed in a savage, cutthroat world for far too long, he’d stared so long into the abyss, he’d felt it staring back into him. Now, he felt that same darkness creeping over him— Sterling was not lying. He was going to hurt Evelina just because he could, because he was reprehensible and a deformed soul.
He could not trust the man to default on his word. Ellie would never be safe on her own, not anymore, not with Sterling still alive. Even if he managed to get her overseas, it would not help.
His plan to get what he wanted from Sterling had vaulted into a ditch.
“And here, I thought you would be a patronizing but distant husband,” Dorian shrugged. “Pity the fool that is me.”
“Distant husband,” Sterling scoffed. “Until I train her, I’ll have a whore in my bed from day one.”
“Are you staying for the luncheon?” Dorian asked while looking around at the unsuspecting lords and ladies. “Because I do not care to stay and listen to enough dribble that my brain will trickle out of my ears.”
“Is it the club?”
“The club,” he assented. “I have a party of lords coming in, newly emancipated from years of studies and drab lecture halls. I need to make sure there is enough Spanish wine they will pay through the nose for.”
“I’ve told you a dozen times,” Sterling grunted, “If you had whores in your place, you’d reap twice the blunt.”
“I do not exploit women,” Dorian replied. “It is inherently cheap to distract them by having women wriggling their buttocks beneath diaphanous cloth.”
Dorian could not wait to get away from the repugnant man. “If they decide otherwise, I’ll send them Wellington’s way. He has more than enoughCypriansto fulfill a bacchanalia. Now, if you will excuse me.”
Striding away, he felt Sterling’s gaze resting heavily on the back of his neck, but he did not care.
I need to get to Evelina. Now.
CHAPTER 8
Jolting from her place, the book on her lap almost clattered to the floor when Dorian strode in. His eyes flashed to the kitchen, but he didn’t break his stride.
“We need to talk,” he uttered. “Now.”
Alarmed, she sat up and fixed her skirts. “What—what is making you so frenetic?”
“Carrington,” Dorian replied, shucking his jacket and damned well nearly ripping his neckcloth from his throat. “He is not going to stop looking for you. Not as long as he is alive, anyway.”
Wrapping her arms around her middle, Ellie swallowed. “What do you suppose we do? How am I to go on if I keep to hiding for the rest of my days?”
He pinned her with a firm look and the golden fire in his gaze entranced her. “We’ll marry.”
She blinked. Then blinked three more times. “Pardon?”
“That is the only way you can be untouchable from his shadowy fingers,” Dorian replied. “He will never dare touch the wife of a Duke.”
“Are you drunk?”
“No.”
“Well, you are either foxed or a candidate for bedlam,” she spluttered. “I wouldn’t marry you—much less consider it! Not if we were the last two people on this earth! It is utterly—”
“Do you not want to live?”
Jarred off her tirade, Ellie frowned, “Of course, I do.”
“You will not have a moment’s peace if you do not marry me,” Dorian said, removing the rest of his cravat. “Believe me, I am not agog about this either, but I need you alive.”
Confused, Ellie shook her head, “But how are you going to get leverage over Carrington if I am to marry you? Were you not saving me just to hand me over like a trading piece?”
